Redirect

3 weeks in the homestead and the groundwork is laid for me to head back to the river region this week. I am feeling strong, bonded and gratified on the evolutions between the grand factions of the family. The time with the grand kids was great and I feel like I am singing in harmony with the Gamp of my Gam. aka Hubs. The middle generation is still as clear as mud, but at peace with the acceptance that their confusions arenae mine to sort. In any phase of cultural development, mid-life is a difficult phase of life where adolescant certainties of what we want to be when we grow up are tested to the core by living realities that all the things we can be contain elements our adolescant certainties didnae quite comprehend.

Am I gaining confidence that "The Mom Job" is the element of my position here which I am rejecting? Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I am retiring. My children are middle-aged now. Despite the lack of paperwork and retirement rituals, my mothering job is done, for both better AND for worse. "Mother" is a potent physical/emotional bond which begins in the womb the day two cells merge and begin the complex journey to an independant life form. Culturally, it is a stereotype by which an incredibly diverse population is kludged into a functional monstrosity. Keep it personal, my editorializing expert. My mommy isnae a clone of your mommy, even when we call her by the same name and adjectives.

Again, the points which seemed clear to me during this morning's meditations scramble mercilessly into an ewey, gooey mess of conflicting theories and assumptions as I type. Sorting. . . The place where my confidence is gaining strength is in the poetic rambles between Hubs and I. The harmonies with Pop of my Mom are gaining cohesion. Those harmonies arenae ready for the recording studios, but we are singing from the same sheet of music. We think. We hope. We pray.

Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer. . .